


Coup De Foudre

by anemic_cinema



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/F, Falling In Love, Femslash, Kissing, Oral Sex, Pre-Femslash, Rating May Change, Sex, Tenderness, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:59:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemic_cinema/pseuds/anemic_cinema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Andrea meets Michonne, she's thunderstruck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moi, J´ai Toujours Rêvé De Rencontrer Un Ange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> translation: "I always dreamed of meeting an angel."
> 
> Michonne saves Andrea, and Andrea cannot find the words to properly express her thanks.

So this is what being saved felt like.

Andrea couldn't catch her breath. The stench of death and rot surrounding her made it so she didn't want to breathe, but she forced her lungs to take in air and then push it out. Air she could breathe because she was alive by the grace of this stranger who stood as powerful as a god with two mutilated walkers in chains.

Then the stranger revealed their face, pushing back their hood, and Andrea was thunderstruck. She was dark and beautiful, her long dreadlocks framing a face that looked like it was sculpted by a master carver, flawless in it's proportions and features. Her eyes were as haunted and closed off as an abandoned house, but there was a light in them that spoke of warmth and sweetness within, hidden out of necessity and suffering. Then she opened her mouth to speak.

“You alright there blondie?” 

Andrea nodded, conscious that she was all agape, but only a fool would take their eyes off of this woman who looked like salvation personified, like an angel sent from above to destroy the world and build it anew.

“You should probably get up. There's bound to be more.” 

Andrea scrambled to her feet, unsteady and exhausted from running. Any thoughts of getting back to the others left her mind. 

“Name's Michonne.” The woman's voice was a little softer now, the adrenaline of killing the walker dissipating. 

“Andrea.” The blonde's mouth was so dry it felt painful to speak. 

“How long you been running?” Michonne tugged the chains of her walkers, making them turn with her so that they could leave this place.

“Since last night.” The exhaustion and delirium was starting to catch up with Andrea. All she could think was that this woman was sent by whatever god was still around to save her. 'She's probably got wings under her clothes.' She thought through the muddiness of her mind.

Michonne fumbled under her coat and handed her a canteen. “You can have the rest.”

Andrea uncapped it and drank deeply. The water was lukewarm, but it soothed her. 

“Thank you.” Andrea licked the drops of water from her lips, the taste of sweat and dirt hitting her tongue. She kept drinking the water until her mouth felt clean.

“Don't mention it.”

As they walked, Andrea stumbling and following her, there was little conversation. All Andrea wanted to do was to fall to her knees and scream out thanks. Michonne. She repeated the name in her mind, tasting it's syllables and turning it into something holy. Her heart felt split open, and for the first time in a long time, she actually wanted to live. Not just survive out of spite, as a revenge against a world that took everything from her, but live, to flower again, to stay by this woman's side forever. 

Andrea's mind was clouded, yes, but this was as piercing and true as a bolt of lightening. She would do anything for this woman, and wanted to spend all of her remaining days repaying her for this rescue.

'Were you go, I follow.' She thought as they strode through the forest. 'I'll go into hell for you.'

“What d'you say?” Michonne turned back, looking at the haggard pale woman behind her who was talking in hushed tones to herself. A twinge of worry went through her. Maybe this woman was just exhausted, or maybe she'd had the poor judgment to rescue someone who was too far gone. Michonne had seen it, living people gone feral and more dangerous that the dead. As much as the world had been unkind and awful before, it was even more so now. 

“Nothing.” Andrea mumbled, the words in her head colliding with the ones in her mouth and causing her tongue to be confused. “We should find some more water.”

Michonne just nodded, and they walked on.


	2. Je Te Resemble Bien Plus Que Tu Ne Crois

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> translation: "I'm like you much more than you think."
> 
> Andrea and Michonne might be more alike than they think.

Andrea now realized that she had never really understood what rest was. Before, rest was being still, the absence of work or chores. It was something dull. Now it was the sweetest, most amazing thing she could think of. Even though she was holed up in what appeared to be a decrepit hunting cabin with a stranger. 

A stranger who had saved her life, and who kept walkers as pets to ward off others. Now that Andrea's mind was not clouded by exhaustion and dehydration, she felt uneasy. That feeling of intense gratitude was still there, as was attraction. Michonne was so beautiful, even though she looked like she'd taken a stroll through hell's half-acre and emerged alive but wounded. But she didn't know anything about this woman, and the fact that already she felt so attached to her was frightening.

They were sitting with their backs pressed to one of the crumbling walls that were made up to look like a log cabin. Really they were just cheap plywood with imitation logs on them. The pets were chained outside, and Andrea could hear their shuffling. 

“That's smart.” She demurred. 

“What d'you mean?” Michonne was picking at a packet of crackers, trying to stir up enough motivation to continue eating them. They did not have much food, and the food that they did have felt exhausting to eat. With luck, they would find someplace with supplies that they could raid tomorrow.

“Your pets. It's smart. It makes it so the walkers don't smell you, and people are too scared to get near you.”

Michonne looked at her with a slight, amused smile, a stray dreadlock brushing against her neck. “Are you scared?”

Andrea turned away from her gaze, not wanting to reveal how intently she'd been staring at her. “No. I'm not scared of you.”

“Good.” Michonne took a swallow of water. The cabin had a well, which was the reason they'd decided to stop there for the night.

The blonde didn't know what to ask, or what to say. She wanted to know everything about this heaven-sent woman, but she didn't know where to begin. Despite this desire, exhaustion was winning out, and her words were sticking together, and her head was nodding.

“I'll keep watch first, you need sleep more than me right now.” Michonne tossed her one of the musty blanket's they'd found in the cabin. Andrea bundled it into a pillow and laid down on her back. She stared at the cobwebs on the ceiling, her mind too tired to think. She didn't realize she'd fallen asleep until she woke up with a start, sitting up fast. Her body was still in escape mode, and even though she could not remember dreaming, it was as if she was trying to run from them all the same. 

Her eyes adjusted to the dim electric lantern light. Michonne was still sitting up, but she was hunched over, her arms wrapped around her legs and her head resting on her knees. When she saw Andrea was awake, she rubbed her eyes. Her satiny brown cheeks looked wet.

“Go back to sleep, you've only been sleeping for an hour.” Her voice was shaky, and her demeanor was not the powerful, fearless one that Andrea had observed when she first saw her.

“Are you ok?” The blonde stopped herself. “Sorry, Jesus, that's a stupid question.”

Michonne smiled again at her. Andrea found herself aching for that small expression, and overwhelmed by the need to make her smile. “Yeah, just things get a little much sometimes.” She took a breath and exhaled. “I was thinking about my boyfriend...my daughters.”

Andrea's heart hurt to hear of the other woman's losses. “I'm so sorry.” She thought back to the others she'd left behind, and wondered if Lori ever really knew how lucky she was to have her husband and her son alive and with her. 

“Thanks.”

The blonde scooted close to Michonne and tentatively placed a hand on her back. “I lost my sister and a good friend, but nothing like-”

“It's not a competition.” Michonne sighed. The other woman's touch was both a surprise and a comfort. She hadn't experienced the touch of another human in so long that she'd stopped measuring time, and just figured that it would not be something she would be allowed to experience ever again. She'd hardened her heart, letting sorrow coat it until it was encased like a thick shell. But this woman's small gesture of kindness, or perhaps pity, she couldn't tell, made her feel the tiniest bit human again. “I'm sorry for your sister and your friend. What were their names?”

“Amy and Dale.” The image of the mermaid necklace she'd buried Amy with floated to the forefront of her mind, and it took all of her strength not to weep at the memory. “What were the names of your boyfriend and your daughters.”

“Mike, Mikaela, and Melissa.” 

“A family of Ms.” 

“We were.” Michonne's voice cracked, and she fell silent. She did not want to fall apart in front of a stranger, no matter how kind they appeared to be.

Andrea gently moved her hand in small circular motions, rubbing the other woman's back. Michonne didn't move away from the touch, and soon the blonde could feel her body relax under her touch. Maybe it had been a bold move, but it was all she could think to do. They sat together, both mourning their losses, but silently thankful that they weren't alone.


	3. Longtemps Je Suis Restée Une Petite Fille En Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> translation: "I stayed a little girl in pink for a long time."
> 
> Andrea is still too sensitive to what's happening all around her.

The house smelled like death. Andrea and Michonne had found it standing alone among fields of rotting soybeans, their strong vegetable smell making them gag a little. Inside the house was no better. Michonne had gone in first, leaving her pets outside, her sword at the ready. All she found were corpses in the master bedroom on the second floor. A man, a woman and a child, all with bullet wounds in their heads. She could not begrudge them for taking that way out. In the most lonely hours of the night she'd considered it as well. When Andrea saw them, she couldn't contain a cry of shock. Despite everything, there were apparently some things that were too terrible for her to start to process.

Michonne turned to her. “Be quiet!” She was whispering, but her tone was harsh. There was no guarantee the house was safe. She didn't mean to be so hard, but survival meant that you had to be like that. 

She tugged the blankets off of the bed, and covered the bodies. 

Once the house was searched, they grabbed everything they could carry. Canned goods, a can opener, a small pot, aspirin, iodine, and some dry goods. Like that they could be set at least for a while. But the house was shelter, and there was no guarantee that they could find anything better, or anything at all.

“We could stay here for the night. It's relatively safe.”

Andrea blanched. “What about the bodies?”

“We can get rid of them.” Andrea was about to say something, but stopped herself. 

One by one they took the bodies out, wrapped up in sheets, and laid them by the dying fields. They both paused when it came to carrying out the child, who had been a young, brown haired girl. Michonne could not feel sorrow for this stranger. To do so would be to allow her own to surge up and drown her. The night before had been bad enough, a moment of weakness when she should have been strong. She didn't have time to break down, not when every minute could be her last.

The graves they dug were shallow, but it was all they could manage. 

Once they were back in the house, Andrea tested one of the faucets. There was still running water. She scrubbed the dirt from her hands and her face at the kitchen sink, hoping to prevent the smell of death from seeping in. It wasn't working, and the smell was all around her. In a fit of desperation, she and began to open windows.

“What're you doing?” Michonne was digging through one of the closets, looking for some kind of weapon that the blonde could use. She'd abandoned the bag of guns in her panic to get away from the walkers. 

“The smell. It's too much.” Andrea was about to rush past Michonne when the other woman grabbed her wrist.

“Stop it.” Her hold was tight, and Andrea stilled. “You need to get a grip. You're not doing yourself, or me, any favors by freaking out.”

Andrea looked down at Michonne's hand. Her sense of indignation told her to snatch it away from her, but something more powerful made her be still. The other woman's hand was hot, and her palm was calloused from carrying her katana.

“I know the smell is bad. I know, alright?” Michonne looked at Andrea's face, her piercing brown eyes meeting the other woman's blue-green ones. “But you need to stay calm. You can't afford to act like this, you're not a little girl goddamn it.”

“I know, ok, I get it!” Andrea's voice shook, pain creeping in through the cracks. 

“Then act like it.” 

Andrea snatched her wrist away, and stalked to the front of the house. She grabbed the bottom of one of the windows, and tried to push it up. It wouldn't go, and she kept trying, her breathing speeding up. Michonne looked at her, how she was throwing her whole body into trying to get that damn window open. With a sigh, she went to Andrea's side, grabbed the window, and with their combined muscle, the window went up with a creak. Michonne breathed in the fresh air as a breeze pushed it into the house. It wasn't enough to lessen the smell, but it helped.

“You're gonna be ok.” She said, turning to Andrea. Her pale cheeks were flushed pink, standing in stark contrast to her eyes. Despite the panic and fear in the blonde's face, Michonne could see the prettiness of it.

Andrea's face became a rictus of pain, before it collapsed into tears. She fell towards Michonne, grabbing onto her. Her crying took them both by surprise, but Michonne didn't say anything. She was taken aback by this display, but let Andrea hold onto her, her tears staining Michonne's leather vest. She put her arms around the crying woman, not sure what else to do. Andrea's sobs quieted down, but she did not let go. Michonne felt the warmth of her breath against her neck, calming down and returning to normal, but she did not let go. Andrea pulled back to look at the other woman, their faces too close, too intimate, but she did not let go. 

Michonne was gripped with panic. Andrea was looking at her like she wanted to be in her arms forever, and that was frightening. She'd inured herself against the despair of knowing no one would touch her ever again, but here was this woman, holding her, holding onto her like she was a life preserver, looking at her with such tenderness. To surrender to this moment meant cracking herself open, and she didn't know if she could afford that, or if she could trust Andrea to understand what it meant. 

So she let the other woman go. 

“You should open the windows upstairs. That'll make the fresh air circulate. When night falls we'll have to close 'em up again, or the house'll get too cold.”

Andrea nodded, her fingers lingering on the cuffs of Michonne's coat. She hadn't meant to break down so badly, or to upset the other woman with her weakness. She wished Michonne hadn't let go. The scent of her skin had made the awful smell of the house a little more bearable. 

“After you do that, we'll make some food.”

“Yeah.” Andrea turned away, and climbed the stairs, leaving Michonne standing by herself in the hallway, her heart beating hard against its shell.


	4. Je Suis Venue Au Monde En Criant Au Secours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> translation: I came into the world crying out for help.
> 
> Andrea's kindness draws Michonne in, and Michonne's warmth keeps Andrea close.

The gas wasn't working in the house, so Michonne had to fashion a makeshift cooking apparatus out of a small barbecue grill that she found in a shed outside of the house. Once she got what she needed out of it, she tied her pets up in the small structure. Michonne figured that they'd be better off hidden. They didn't need to alert anyone to their presence in the house.

She set up the grill by the back door that led into the kitchen. Like that she could easily retreat if she needed to. Even simple tasks like cookery had taken on a life or death aspect. Once she got a fire going, she placed a pot on top of the grill and heated up a couple of cans of beans. At least the people who had lived there had had a decent stash of seasonings, so the food would go down a little easier. 

While Michonne worked on that, Andrea tried to figure out what else they could eat. In the cellar there was a sizable stash of homemade jarred goods. She brought up a small jar of deep red pickled beets and what she assumed were peaches. 

The sky grew dark, and they lit candles. There was a generator outside, but it was bone dry. So they settled for lighting their dinner the old-fashioned way. The food was slightly mismatched, but it was the best meal either of them could think of at the moment. Andrea devoured the piping hot beans. When she went back for seconds, scraping the pot, Michonne couldn't help but laugh at her enthusiasm.

“At least your appetite isn't affected.”

“Well, you make good beans.” Andrea sat back down at the kitchen table across from the other woman. “Maybe it's the starvation talking, but these are the most delicious beans I've ever tasted.”

Michonne cracked open the jar of peaches, and divided them into two bowls. Their sweetness was comforting, a small call back to a time when things were normal. 

“There's only one bathroom upstairs with a tub in it. Do you want to bathe first?” 

Andrea looked up from her bowl of peaches. “You can go first if you want. I can wait.” She resisted the urge to suggest that they bathe together for warmth and to save water. Even if she said it in a jesting manner, Andrea doubted that she could hide the fact that she did think it was an excellent idea.

“Alright. Thanks.” Michonne pushed the last peach halve in her bowl around with her spoon. “I'm sorry I was so harsh on you earlier.”

“What? No, you have nothing to be sorry about. You were right. I let my emotions get the better of me.” Andrea hesitated before reaching out and touching Michonne's wrist, her fingers resting lightly on the thin, smooth skin. “You weren't harsh at all.”

Michonne considered moving her arm away, but Andrea's fingers felt good. It was a reckless feeling. “I was brought up being told that you have to hide your emotions away. My family wasn't big on sharing feelings.” She nodded down towards herself, her dreadlocks gliding across her shoulders. 

Andrea nodded, letting Michonne know that she was listening, but she didn't speak. She tried not to focus on the prettiness of the movement of her hair. 

Ever since she was a little girl, Michonne had been expected to be strong, just like her mother. She couldn't remember ever seeing her cry or break down, ever, even when she was grown. Her mother had told her that she couldn't expect anyone to help her along in this world. She taught her that Black women didn't get to show weakness, and if Michonne did, it would be the end of her.

“Lemme tell you, in my house, there was no time for tears.” Michonne gave a small smile. “So when I see other people cry, I guess I feel frustrated.”

“I get what you're saying.” Andrea's other hand rested on Michonne's. “It must have been so tough for you.”

Michonne shrugged, and let her fingers curl under the heat of the other woman's hand. “I never knew any different.” She allowed herself to stay seated, and feel the kindness from Andrea. She made herself be still even though everything in her being was telling her to run, to get away, not to allow this person to get into her heart. To let that happen would only mean pain, because chances were she would have to watch this person die. 

But Andrea was smiling at her, and touching her, and making her feel delicate. Only a few people in her entire life had managed to make her feel that. The last person to was Mike, and he was gone.

“I'll clean up while you bathe. Do you think we should stand watch?” 

Michonne shook her head. “No, as long as we lock everything up.”

“Where do you wanna sleep?” 

“The small bedroom.” Michonne said it without thinking. She did not want to sleep where they'd found the corpses. Maybe it was foolish, but she did not want to have to go back into that room unless she had to. 

“Ok. I can take the couch.” Andrea stood up and took the bowls and the empty jars to the sink.

Michonne watched her wash and rinse out the bowls before she got up and went upstairs with a candle. The house was getting cold, so she shut the bathroom window before stripping off her clothes. Her bath was more of a wipe down. She could not tolerate the freezing water for more than was necessary. By the time she was done, she was trembling and her skin was all goose-flesh. She dried off quickly, and dressed again, but she was still cold. By the time she made it downstairs, Andrea had cleaned up their dinner mess, and had closed all the windows she'd opened earlier. While the blonde washed herself, Michonne forced herself to go into the master bedroom in search of blankets. She found a green wool sweater that fit her, albeit a little loosely. She still couldn't get warm. 

The smaller bedroom had belonged to the child, and the bed was small. She placed extra blankets there for herself before taking some down to the couch that Andrea had claimed as her bed, along with a pillow. After making sure all of the windows and doors were secure, Michonne went back up the stairs, just as Andrea exited the bathroom, shivering from the cold water. 

“It isn't very fun, is it?” 

“Tell me about it.” Andrea hopped from foot to foot, trying to warm up.

Michonne took off the sweater and handed it over to Andrea. “Here, you need it more than me.”

Andrea took it hesitantly. “Are you sure? Won't you get cold?”

“Don't worry. I took a blanket more than what you have, so I'll be fine.” 

“Ha ha.” Andrea slipped the sweater over her head. It was tight on her, the wool stretching and cracking a little as it went over her chest. “Thanks.” 

“Goodnight blondie.” Michonne turned away and went into the small bedroom, not allowing any time for either of them to linger over goodnights. To linger right now would be too dangerous. So instead she slipped under the covers of the small bed, and curled up, trying to get comfortable. Despite the blankets, she could not shake the chill in her body.

**

The sound of footstep made Michonne start awake. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she saw that it was Andrea. 

“What's wrong?” 

“It's too cold downstairs, can I sleep with you?” 

The phrasing gave them both pause.

“Sure.” Michonne threw back the covers. She'd been cold as well, and figured that another warm body in the bed wouldn't hurt. That was all it was. 

Andrea slipped in between the sheets and had to press up against the length of Michonne's lean body to fit onto the mattress. There was some awkwardness in deciding whose limbs should go where, culminating in Michonne facing the wall, with Andrea on her side facing the same way, her arms tucked against her chest and the other woman's back. Already it was much warmer in the bed. That was the explanation Michonne told herself when she felt her face grow hot. Thankfully Andrea didn't say anything. 

The blonde settled in and closed her eyes, trying not to over think the situation. Soon she was lulled to sleep by the heat and the scent of Michonne's body. The other woman was still a relative stranger, but everything about her felt like home. Like help. Like love.


	5. J'ai Besoin D'Amour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> translation: I need love.
> 
> Andrea and Michonne need each other.

The window of the small bedroom was oriented in a way that made it so it got the entirety of the light as the sun rose. Andrea woke up first because of the light. As she let her brain re-orient itself, she realized that sometime during the night both her and Michonne had shifted positions. Michonne was now on her back, with one arm around Andrea. It was lovely, but it meant that Andrea was close to falling off of the bed. In attempting to move forward to prevent that, she woke up Michonne.

The other woman rubbed her eyes, brushing away the sleep. Andrea was impressed at how, even first thing in the morning, she looked flawless. The way her hair was fanned out around her made her look magnificent.

“Morning.” Andrea tentatively draped her arm over Michonne's torso. “Did you sleep ok?”

“Yeah.” Michonne did not remove her arm from Andrea's shoulders. “Best night of sleep I've had in a while.” 

“Good! I'm glad.” The blonde wondered if she should sit up, but laying like this with the other woman felt too good to stop.

They laid quietly together. Michonne allowed her fingers to drift over Andrea's sweater clad arm, petting the wool and enjoying its texture. Despite her hesitation, she was happy that Andrea had crawled into bed with her. It was making her feel warm, and normal. 

Andrea hesitantly nuzzled closer, resting her chin against Michonne's collarbone. The longer she laid with her, the more comfort turned into desire. The only problem was there was no way of knowing if it would be well received. 

“You feel really nice.” Andrea murmured. That was as good an opening as any.

“Thanks.” Michonne swallowed. After yesterday, the feeling of the other woman's breath on her skin was becoming her new favorite sensation.

“Michonne...” Andrea sat up just enough so she could look the other woman in the eyes, which were beautiful in the early morning sunlight. She could see bits of gray within the dark brown of her irises. In the dim light of candles the night before, her eyes had looked like they were all pupil. Now, in the light, she could see all the variations within them. She'd never seen eyes so dark or so warm. “You saved my life.”

“Please-” Michonne's hand trailed down her arm.

“Can I kiss you? I really would like to kiss you.” Andrea held her breath, hoping that she hadn't crossed a line. 

The beat that passed seemed too long to the both of them. And then Michonne nodded. 

And then Andrea leaned down.

When their lips met, Michonne felt her heart crack open through its shell, and the blood gush through it again. 

The blonde's lips were thin but soft, and they were so hot against hers. She held onto her, bringing their bodies together again, acknowledging the desire between them. There was no point in ignoring it. They were utterly doomed in this new world, and this could be the last act of tenderness either of them ever performed. It would hurt, but not doing it would hurt more. The kiss turned from a thank you into a declaration of passion, and a demand for more. Andrea's fingers tangled in her dreadlocks as their tongues met for the first time, the intimacy of their touching making the both of them shiver. 

“Oh my God,” Andrea pulled away, her breathing uncontrolled and erratic before she began to lay kisses over Michonne's face. “You're so beautiful.” She kissed the other woman's strong nose and soft, round cheeks. She kissed her forehead, pushing the headband that held her hair out of her face back so that she could kiss her hairline. “You're so beautiful.” Andrea's voice was becoming frantic now, bursting with need. She dipped down to Michonne's neck, her lips pressing hungry kisses down its tendons before her tongue lapped at the crook where it met her shoulders. 

Michonne let the words wash over her. She could count on one hand the people who had called her beautiful and really meant it. Usually, the darkness of her skin made it so people overlooked the beauty she knew she possessed. She had no idea why she believed that this woman meant it. Maybe it was the force with which she was saying it, or the way she was kissing her, or it was the way she looked at her, but she believed it.

She wrapped her arms around Andrea's back, and their bodies pressed against each other. Michonne let her hands drift down to cup the other woman's ass. Andrea moved against the touch, her desperation starting to mount. 

“Please,” The blonde's breathing was getting louder. “You can touch me wherever you want.”

Michonne rolled her onto her back. There was no going back now. She wanted this moment as much as Andrea did. 

“You ever done this before?” She asked the blonde.

“Yeah, have you?” Andrea reached up and stroked Michonne's cheek. 

“Yeah, but not in a long time. I might be a little rusty.” 

Andrea grinned. “It's like riding a bike.” She took the other woman's hand, and guided it down. “You never really forget how.” She unzipped her pants. 

Michonne's hand slipped underneath the fabric and touched the warm, wet flesh of Andrea's cunt. Her fingers moved over it, trying to gauge by Andrea's reactions what was the right way to touch her. It didn't take long to figure out. Andrea's back arched against the mattress, and Michonne had to bend down to kiss her to muffle the noises coming out of her mouth. While they might be safe for the moment, experience had taught her that discretion was a necessity. 

However, when she felt Andrea's hand between her legs, she was unable to do keep quiet herself. The cry that sounded out stunned her, because she didn't think she would ever make a noise like that again. Her fingers moved faster, stroking Andrea as the blonde did the same to her. 

The perfection of the moment was over too soon, leaving the both of them shuddering and holding onto each other, fingers lingering and feeling every tremor. Michonne didn't pull away, instead she remained on top of Andrea, straddling her hips. She couldn't catch her breath, no matter down many times she inhaled deeply.

“For someone who claims that they're rusty, you're real good.” Andrea smiled, sighing as Michonne pulled her fingers away and laid on top of her. The weight of her body was comforting.

“I'm sure that given a little practice I could do even better.” Her full lips pressed against Andrea's neck. She could feel her pulse through the skin, reminding her that they were both still alive.

“You're more than welcome to practice on me.” Andrea nuzzled Michonne's neck. “That is, if you want to. I understand if this is just a one-time thing.” She didn't mean to let sadness creep into her voice, but the thought of being without Michonne's touch made her want to cry. Andrea knew they both needed this tenderness, this affection. They needed it to survive.

Michonne pressed a tender kiss against the other woman's lips. “Blondie, you don't have to worry about that.” She smiled, and Andrea was overcome with joy. “I don't think I'm going to be able to stay away from you.”


	6. Epilogue

“I don't think I'm going to be able to stay away from you.”

There wasn't a day that would go by that Andrea didn't think about those words. They decided to remain in the house, at least until winter passed. And for a while, they were able to pretend that things were normal. Andrea set up snares for rabbits and squirrels, remembering how Daryl had done it. It took some practice, but she eventually figured out how to skin the small animals without ruining the meat. Michonne would go out and find supplies, her pets in tow. No matter what they did, they would always try to be waiting at the house for each other. Waiting for the other to come back, so that they could welcome each other home. It was small things like that that made life bearable.

After a while, the small bedroom didn't work for them anymore, and they moved into the master bedroom. Andrea got rid of the blood-stained rug. The bed was comfortable. Waking up every morning next to each other was reason enough to keep surviving.

The blonde got into the habit of waking up first, so she could watch Michonne rest. She was always beautiful, but even more so when her face would relax in slumber. Despite their small happiness, Michonne's face was so often turned down into a frown. She was always so aware of the troubles around them. Andrea was always trying to think up new ways to make her smile. She'd looted small precious objects for her, like a small crystal cat from a destroyed jewelry shop. She found her a necklace made of fake amber beads, which broke and lost it's beads too soon. She even figured out how to make food that Michonne liked and looked forward to eating. All those things helped, and Michonne was grateful for Andrea's enthusiasm. Even though she told the blonde it was silly sometimes.

What Michonne didn't say was how grateful she was for Andrea waking her up by placing kisses on her face and neck. The ticklish sensation of the blonde's lips behind her ear was the nicest thing she could think of to wake up to. It was the nicest not just because it felt good when Andrea did that, but also because of what would sometimes follow. 

On days when they knew one of them had to go out for supplies, they would linger in the bed, hands stroking each other awake. If Michonne was the one who had to go out, Andrea would kiss her body, traveling down from her face to her breasts. Down her stomach, where she would stop to lavish the scar below her bellybutton with affection. By the time Andrea would settle between her legs, Michonne would always be holding onto her hair tight. It was all she could think of doing as the other woman licked and sucked at her. Andrea was always hungry for a taste of her, and desperate to see her come. And she demonstrated that as much as she could with her clever mouth. 

If Andrea was the one who had to go out, Michonne would touch her for a long as she could. Her hands re-learning the curves of her body, and its heat, so that no matter what happened she could remember her. Andrea's breasts were so soft and pretty, so she could never resist spending a little more time on them than other parts of her body. She'd spend so long on the caresses that the blonde often had to grab her hand away and bring it down where she wanted it to be. When Michonne would acquiesce, and slip her fingers inside of her, Andrea would arch off of the bed. Michonne liked how her toes would curl and how her hands grabbed at the sheets.

They would remind themselves of their love before facing the collapsing world. They were lucky, because they always managed to come back to find one another. After all, they couldn't stay away from each other.

**Author's Note:**

> The titles for the work and the chapter come from the song "Coup De Foudre" from the French-language musical Starmania.


End file.
